


So Long

by WendyShad



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Future Fic, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-17
Updated: 2013-01-17
Packaged: 2017-11-25 19:27:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/642221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WendyShad/pseuds/WendyShad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This lovely piece was originally written in Chinese by ChiAkilalala, my one-true favourite E/C author. My English would turn out to be a disaster if not for <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/luninosity/pseuds/luninosity">luninosity</a>’s dedicated beta-ing. It was also written as a prequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/pocky_slash/pseuds/pocky_slash">pocky_slash</a>’s <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/series/24804">Old Retired Dudes Series</a>. So all in all, it’s a joint tribute from luni and me to ChiAki and pocky.</p>
    </blockquote>





	So Long

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChiAkilalala](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=ChiAkilalala), [pocky_slash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocky_slash/gifts).
  * A translation of [So Long](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/15770) by ChiAkilalala. 



> This lovely piece was originally written in Chinese by ChiAkilalala, my one-true favourite E/C author. My English would turn out to be a disaster if not for [luninosity](http://archiveofourown.org/users/luninosity/pseuds/luninosity)’s dedicated beta-ing. It was also written as a prequel to [pocky_slash](http://archiveofourown.org/users/pocky_slash/pseuds/pocky_slash)’s [Old Retired Dudes Series](http://archiveofourown.org/series/24804). So all in all, it’s a joint tribute from luni and me to ChiAki and pocky.

Charles has gotten old. 

He's noticed this not because he's becoming easy to tire or gaining more wrinkles or feeling that it’s more difficult to see things closer or mourning for the receding hairline, but because he’s noticed that Erik’s gotten old.

He meets his old friend at the end of the spring in a genetics symposium in western Europe, a pleasant surprise, though not totally unexpected. Erik, in a fedora and a stylishly-interested smile, is staring at the crowd as if he clearly understands yet fails to comprehend why all these people are gathering here for an ever-babbling old baldhead. He might be right, Charles thinks, while he’s filled with the impulse to run towards Erik like the young man in his twenties, which hasn’t changed a bit since the first day they met each other.

Now Erik’s coming through the crowd, deliberately holding out his hand to take Charles’ with amusement.

“Hello, Charles,” he says gently. “You know how I admire your work.”

With his wrinkled and dignified face and the intimate tone he successfully forces away a young geneticist clinging to Charles’ sleeve. Charles carefully feels the warm hand in his palm before letting it go in relief.

“I thought you were in Switzerland,” he says, watching Erik raising both eyebrows reasonably. “It’s an utter accident; you’re thinking too loudly of your love of that mechanical watch.”

“Maybe you’ll be forgiven if you let me choose the place for dinner,” Erik lifts the corner of his mouth as if Charles would say no to him, as if knowing Charles would never say no to him.

They have dinner in a small pub as Erik is used to, noisy people and spaced chairs, waiters throwing dishes on tables before apologizing casually and busying away. They don’t order any wine, and the food is divine.

They exchange little food, even less conversation particularly--for god’s sake, they’ve had too much in confrontations. Charles’ attention is frequently attracted by the face of the mechanical watch sliding out of Erik’s cuff when he raises the knife and fork. He smiles inwardly.

Then Erik drives him back to the hotel and naturally pushes his chair upstairs after parking the car, and naturally takes off his jacket and socks and naturally lies on the right side of Charles’ bed. He always chooses the side closer to the door as if to protect Charles from whatever evil beings that may break in at any time.

They are both tired but neither falls asleep at once.

Charles knows Erik has something in mind; he’s known that since Erik appeared in the symposium earlier today. Yet he neither dares nor wants to peek into the depth of that mind for the truth. He wonders if he’s become timid with age, that he’s satisfied as long as Erik’s lying beside him.

Then Erik speaks. Just one sentence.

“You should buy us some time, Charles.”

Charles feels his heart shattering under his throat.

So many years ago, every time when he tried to keep Erik who was always about to leave, he would approach him if he could stand up and hug him and tug his clothes and kiss every corner of his body that was objecting. And when Erik told him that they really had no time, he would banter softly at his cheek “buy us some time”, and then his friend would always give in and lock Hank’s or Charles’ door with his power to keep them from being disturbed.

And wasn’t time what they lacked the most in all these long years?

At this moment, Erik has sat up and is leaning against the headboard gazing at him. Charles has gotten old indeed. He’s noticed this not because he’s becoming easy to tire or gaining more wrinkles or feeling that it's more difficult to see things closer by or mourning for the retrieving hairline, but because he’s noticed that Erik’s gotten old. He looks so fragile and weary, shirt creased by the sheet hanging on the thin lines of shoulders. Instead of antagonizing the whole world, he seems more likely to just hold Charles. He seems to want nothing but to hold Charles.

Charles closes his eyes. He’s been waiting for this day for all his life. Sometimes he felt that he’d been waiting even since before he knew Erik, until their shared dream was broken and sunk on the beach that day. Isn’t it so. Aging has indeed weakened him. He’s so afraid that if they spend another six months weaving the future they’re together ever after just to end up falling into the same old trap, he will be too old to endure another blow.

“What if,” he starts, and Erik doesn’t look away.

“What if it doesn’t turn out to be what we expected,” Charles says cautiously, though he doesn’t really know what he’s talking about or what he wants to say. “What if we quarrel and argue, what if we can’t put up with each other but still have to live under the same roof and even share the same bed?”

Erik just sits there looking at him for a long time, expression shifting between mocking and annoyance, which Charles is so familiar with: the mocking belonged to the thirty-year-old Erik, young and strong and capable of defeating the whole world, and the annoyance belonged to the forty-year-old Erik who was persistent and confused. And thank goodness, the seventy-year-old Erik chooses to feel too tired to oppose, mouth drooping with incredible tenderness.

“Well,” he whispers, laying one hand on his knee, palm facing upward. “Am I the only person who thinks it sounds not bad, or is the feeling mutual?”

Charles wants to tell him that even if he’s spent most of his life fighting against Erik’s idea and never regretted so, there’s always a soft yet indestructible part of him crazily agreeing with every word he’s said and everything he’s done.

But he doesn’t. He just reaches out to the hand silently waiting for him and grips it.

It will be the best choice he’s ever made in his long life, Charles tells himself. Until an hour ago, he’d believed that the best one was made at his twenty-fourth, when he armed himself with alcohol and smashed his lips into Erik’s to get him shocked and both of them bloody-mouthed. But this one is probably better; because they are both sober, as if they’ve finally shaken off the long dream lasting for fifty years.

**Author's Note:**

> With eternal love and gratitude to ChiAki, _Mein Schatz_ , for how you touched my heart with the blessed words from faraway. My appreciation goes to luninosity for grinding up my poor translation with endless comments :). And many thanks to pocky_slash--how I adore the lavish thoughts and emotions in your words!


End file.
